


Pick Your Killers

by MintSauce



Series: The Halfway House [16]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintSauce/pseuds/MintSauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They finally meet Carl's boyfriend. He both is and isn't what Ian expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Your Killers

**Author's Note:**

> This one's just a short thing to make more sense of other stuff that's to come. Hope it's still alright. I'm going to have to sleep now :) night!

Eddie was at least seven foot, dark-skinned and had eyes like a serial killer.

In short, he was pretty much perfect for Carl in every way.

They reminded Ian a lot of him and Mickey back when they were younger. Minimal affection and a ridiculous amount of eye fucking and sexual chemistry.

The four of them were in one of the parks that the Northside pricks had done up to try and ‘improve the neighbourhood’. It wasn’t a bad place, if you liked the overabundance of trees and ‘cute’ little park benches for old people to sit on. Well, that was probably their intended use, instead, it was just teenagers sitting there smoking a joint.

Carl had flopped right down without a care, grinning at them as Eddie had slowly lowered himself to sit on the grass. “So,” he’d started off the conversation with. “You two ever switch or d’you like to keep it pretty routine and standard?”

Mickey just about choked on his tongue, still not used to Carl’s incessant need to know things he shouldn’t and blunt way of phrasing _everything_. Eddie didn’t comment, he just looked mildly amused as he stretched his long legs out in front of him and stared up at the sky.

The guy was unnerving. He made Ian feel small.

“None of your business,” Ian tells his brother easily.

Carl just huffs, not really surprised. He jerks his thumb towards the boy lounging next to him. “Anyway, this is Eddie, figured you should all meet or some shit,” he shrugs, but Ian can see the blush rising in his face. “You know, since we’re all the queers in the family and all.”

Mickey groans and throws his head back against the grass. “This ain’t no fairy meet-up,” he says.

Ian smacks his thigh lightly.

He knows in Carl language that was his way of saying that he was sort of proud of the fact he was in a relationship. That was his way of saying he wanted to show Eddie off. So Ian had every intention of letting him.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, offering over a hand.

Eddie shakes it after a minute of quiet, calculating deliberation. He nods, his large paw of a hand completely dwarfing Ian’s.

“Couldn’t we meet in a fucking bar or something?” Mickey complains, glaring up at the sun like it’s personally offended him. It’s not far off the mark actually. It was a fight to get him here and even then, that was only after Ian had personally smothered every inch of Mickey in about an inch of sunblock. “I mean, sure, you’re black, you’re fine,” he says, motioning to Eddie who doesn’t even blink. “But I’m pasty as fuck and so’re you,” he points at Carl that time. “And you’re fucking ginger.”

Ian laughs, can’t help it. “Quit complaining,” he says and shuffles them around until Mickey’s got his head in Ian’s lap. “Just go to fucking sleep or something.” He cards his fingers through Mickey’s hair, watches his eyelids already start to droop.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Ian asks, because it’s the obvious question.

“At a party,” Carl says simply.

It’s Eddie who elaborates, but even then, it’s only with, “I taught him how to do a proper line of coke.”

Carl rolls his eyes. “I knew how to do one before.”

“No you didn’t.”

“You got a big family, Eddie?” he asks next. He knows how much of a madhouse the Gallagher’s place can seem to most people.

Next to him, Carl tenses up. Eddie’s fists clench around the grass, ripping some of it up. Ian thinks of those rich idiots, so carefully rolling the turf out only for this to become of it. It’s a good sort of irony though, one Ian likes.

He’s not quite sure what he said wrong.

“They’re dead,” Eddie says simply.

 _Oh_.

“Oh.” He doesn’t say he’s sorry, he knows it’s not what people ever want to hear. He hates it when people apologise for Monica or Frank, like they could change the outcome of things in any way. “Ours are just deadbeat.”

Just like that Carl relaxes and Eddie even smirks a little bit. “He punched Frank the other day,” Carl explains.

Ian laughs, delighted. The movement jostles Mickey, but he can’t bring himself to care. This is the best news he’s had in a long time. “Seriously?” he asks. “That’s awesome! You make him bleed.”

“Of course,” Eddie says and there’s something unnerving in his face.

It almost has Ian want to stop laughing, _almost_. But he just plows on.

The rest of the day passes much like that. Ian fetches ice cream when Mickey starts grumbling about the heat for the hundredth time. Eddie doesn’t want one, but he steals half of Carl’s in the end. Something Carl seems to be expecting.

Mickey gets the juice from his halfway up his face like he’s five years old again. It’s adorable enough that Ian wants to take him home, tuck him away in their bedroom and just cuddle the shit out of him. He’d do it in the park, but he’d rather there was air conditioning.

“I’m glad he makes you happy,” Ian mutters to Carl when they hug goodbye.

Carl goes bright red and waves him off, still young and not really willing to hear what Ian’s saying right then. He gets it. Still, he means what he says. He’s glad that Carl has found someone – however scary – to love him and to have his back. Someone to make him smile.

There’s enough shit in their world without it being dragged into a relationship too.

“That kid’s fucking dangerous,” Mickey comments when they’re on top of their covers on their bed. Ian’s got an arm underneath Mickey’s head, but it’s too hot for them to have any other real point of contact.

“Yeah,” Ian said, humming. “At least he’s on our side though.”

Mickey snorts. “There is that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd got a little dog.... put him in a little sweater.... we could do that.... you'll only find out if you follow me ;)
> 
> [themintsauce](http://themintsauce.tumblr.com)  
> @BethCottrell


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